I’ve never seen his skin, But I’ve traced the curve of his ribs Drawing star maps on his anatomy I’ve witnessed the blade of his hip Scratched his spine And run fingertips across his collar
And last night I couldn’t sleep Watching a set of fragile wings smaller than my pinkie nail Circle the glow of my lamp, transfixed After bobbing in and out of the lampshade, It sputtered and fell onto my bedside table Moths never know light is lethal